9th
by HisDoc
Summary: In the snow and ice caves of Hoth, thousands of brave men and women died to keep the hope of rebellion alive. This is their story.


**Welcome to my first fic, both on FF and in general. This story is the result of me watching Empire Strikes Back and playing the Hoth map on the new Battlefront back to back. I feel like there's a serious disconnect between the frantic and constant fighting in the snow and ice caves of the video game, and the brief aerial battle and sudden breakthrough of the movie. Note, I'm a military buff, and am working on my masters in military history, but I've never served, so any disconnect between real-life and this fic can either be attributed to that, or that the Rebellion is a hodgepodge of former-military and non-military combatants with no real sense of military composure. **

**Anyway, here we go.**

**Chapter 1:Call the Muster**

Tam didn't like talking to Alderaanians. He sympathized with them of course, what sentient with a heart wouldn't? And whatever kind of culture they'd had on their planet must have been a polite one, because he couldn't make or take a requisition without a "please" or "thank you, quartermaster". Admittedly, that was much better than hearing another druk-headed Core kid whine to him about how his A295 kept jamming when he'd only cleaned it last week.

No, Tam respected Alderaanians. Was kind of hard not to between the Princess, Rieekan, and the mechanics and medics around base. But damn, were they a sad was always an invisible countdown in any conversation he'd ever had with one in the last three years. They'd go stiff, a faraway look in their eyes, and he knew they were seeing Aldera, or Juranno, or anywhere else two billion souls once called home. Tam supposed it should be expected. He'd only been a kid when he'd had to flee Axetes, but at least it was still there, even if the fires were still burning.

That sadness had home in the form of a young trooper turning in her blaster, and ruined another night off duty before it even began. His mood was dipped low. While he'd taken to armory work quickly, there was something about being locked in the bunker-like room for eight hour shifts that grated him. He was Axetan for One's Sake. He was made for open sky and thorny woods, not sitting on his ass scrubbing carbon off of tibanna chambers. There was only one recourse, the bar.

Tam had started his second round of beer when they walked in. The kid was like looking at a star, all smiles and radiation-bleached hair. The smuggler, on the other hand, was just as cocky as the first day he came to base. They claimed a booth in the corner like a new planet, and settled in with the Wookie un-slinging his bowcaster. They sat, they drank, and Tam stewed. Five years he'd been in the Alliance. Five years since he'd joined with his kinsmen in the 9th, two years on this frozen rock, and still, they'd stayed, while newbloods got to go out and fight.

There was a clink of a mug on Tam's left and a scratchy voice. "You look like a rattleback bit you in the fold, bud." Thank the One, Reket.

"Naw, just caught a whiff of yer socks. Nahan still washin' em for yah?"

Reket scowled, and it looked entirely foreign to his face. "I remember you throwing in a few shorts in that laundry pile, Dekyen. I'm surprised the whole base didn't catch something."

Tam laughed, and the two men rose and embraced with slaps on the back. Tam looked up at his gangly squadmate.

"Surprised to see yah out of the motor pool, man. About time our duty schedules synched up! Grab a stool and the first-" Reket shook his head.

"We're havin' a drink, but not that kind. C'mon, everyone else is over at Tripak and Jars'."

The wheels in Tam's head spun, stuck, and spun again before he registered the thought. "Kriff. It's today isn't it."

Reket nodded. "Today's the day." Tam's mood dropped again, and this time he felt it was appropriate.

Echo Base was cold in the same way resec was strong. You'd look at it, think "Yeah, I could handle that." and four hours later you'd find yourself without clothes struggling to get somewhere warm. Difference was, resec didn't give you frostbite. The two walked down towards the barracks, chatting the whole way, similar but contrasting. Reket was all lean muscle and hard edges below his chin, while Tam had once been not so generously described as "a walking slab of carbonite".

Reket Burwei was a rare breed, able to carry on a conversation with anyone for as long as needed, and Tam welcomed it. It'd been too long since he was able to talk like this, and it was like exhaling after a long held breath. The other armorers were good folk, and damn good at their jobs, but they weren't Axetans. Twenty minutes and a long argument about holos later ("I'm telling you, there's no beating Tailwind IV! It's a classic.") and they'd arrived. Four sharp knocks, a pause, two more, a pause, and the durasteel door opened up to a short man with a broad smile and soft eyes.

"Tam! Where the hell have you been? Sorry to say, but we already drank all the booze."

Tam laughed, "Denying illegal alcohol to a superior is punishable by firing squad, Jars. Don't tempt me." Jars Tahka snorted, rolled his eyes, and moved away. The room was cramped, but warmly so. Both bunks, and every available space was taken by an audience to a small woman on a durasteel crate that quickly rose and fell. The grunting and legs underneath gave hint as to why.

"51! 52! 53!"

Tam found a spot of wall to lean his bulk on as Jars pushed metal cups into his and Reket's hands. Naw was shouting encouragement and acting in his usual role as squad bookie, and it seemed Nahan and Rane were the two with the biggest deal in the pot.

"What's he up to now?"

Jars shook his head. "He swears up and down he hit two hundred a week ago, but you know Trip." Tripak's face finally became visible as he lifted the crate and Enley up again with a laugh. He was red-faced, sweat beading on his forehead, and the bastard still looked like something out of a fashion flimsi. "He'll be insufferable after this y'know."

Tam nodded. "Only one thing to do when he gets like this." He crouched down, cupped his hands and stage-yelled "Trip! The valves are in!"

The crate and Enley flew, and Tripak Melrei flew to his feet. "You got the new Heter valves?!" The man threw up a fist and started crowing as the room groaned and a stack of credits piled into a smiling Nahan's lap. Tam looked at Trip, then to the small blonde woman groaning on the floor. Trip started, and ran over, the flush from exhertion, alcohol, and a little embarrassment turned pale skin as red as his hair while he helped Enley up. She punched him in the shoulder for his trouble.

Tam scanned the room, "Where's the boss? And the girls?"

Naw shook his head. "Koz is over with them. Figured it'd be better to spend the night with the wife and the medicos than with us."

Rone glanced around from the constantly melting and freezing walls, to the pile of "entertainment" flimsis in the corner, to Enley yelling at Trip for dropping her. "Can't imagine why."

There was a general round of snorts at that. Blue-4 was a mess at the best of times, and the new sergeant was anything but. Good sort, quick thinker, competent at what he needed to be, but entirely too squared away for Tam's taste.

Reket checked his chrono and raised his mug. It's time." A solemn quiet fell over the room. Those without cups grabbed and filled in under thirty seconds to join Reket's in the air. Enley was the first to speak.

"Shan Yameld."

Then Rane.

"Uan Hamezi."

One by one the names went on.

"Yori Kallan."

"Dall Sanalbes"

"Kres Nocker."

"Galle Yanew."

The naming went on for fifteen minutes, practiced and ritual, for all one hundred and seventeen members of the 9th Brigade who weren't there to raise a glass. They knew, all over the base, seven hundred and eighty three souls raised cups and mugs and glasses of resec, and the names were remembered. Finally, Tam finished,

"Till we're all together in Axetan soil."

A chorus "Till then."

They drank. They remembered. And they drank again. Chane proposed a toast to the 9th, and they drank. Rone to Axetes, and they drank. Tripak toasted to new Heter valves, they drank, and the toasts only went downhill from there. By what passed for midnight on Hoth, the party turned well and truly rowdy. By 0100, Trip was arm wrestling both Naw and Chane when Rone walked up to Tam, seated on the previously fallen supply crate.

"So, when do we get our Squad Leader back?"

Tam looked at the amber resec swirling in his mug. "Probably tomorrow morning, after you've all slept this off." He chuckled. "Be glad the Old Man gets us this time off. Hate to be on a kriffing Tauntaun with the hangover you'll have tomorrow morning."

Rone shook her head. "You know what I meant, Tam. You're wasted in the armory. The Old Man has kept you on the afterburner long eno-"

"Not long enough for him." Tam stared at the tall woman. "You have a squad leader, Rone. Colonel Mascaw has made it perfectly clear-"

"Perfectly clear as _shavit_, Tam. All you'd have to do is ask-"

"I'm not asking." Tam slammed down the rest of his resec. "The issue's closed Rone. The Colonel will decide to put me back with the squad when he decides. I won't beg him."

Rone's eye's narrowed. "Well, I'm glad to hear how far you're willing to go for us." She turned, and walked away. Tam eyes planted themselves between her shoulder-blades until she stood with Enley and Chane, who'd suddenly decided now was the perfect time to discuss detonators.

Tam's gaze met Reket's, who looked over at the angry markswoman, and nodded. He'd take care of it. The former sergeant looked down at the empty cup, set it on the empty crate in the middle of the room, gave a wave to anyone looking, and began the long walk back to his bunk.

**Short first chapter, mainly intro of characters and setting. I'll admit, I'm an amateur, and so I welcome any constructive criticism in my reviews or my PMs. Thanks for reading!**


End file.
